


As the strings cried under your fingers

by LenaLawlipop



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, M/M, Saovine, can be read as gen or as geraskier, curse of the week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLawlipop/pseuds/LenaLawlipop
Summary: "Your bard shouldn't be so careless. That's the house of madam Hilda, and he'll get turned into one of the dolls if he gets any closer."Ah. Another local legend, huh... Geralt tilted his head. Saovine was coming closer and closer, he supposed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38
Collections: Sordid Saovine - The Witcher Halloween Event, The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #009





	As the strings cried under your fingers

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with an idea for this when the countdown was around 8 hours left. I wrote this in about 40 minutes, revised it in about 20, and came up with the title in about a minute. The rest of the 8 hours? Procrastination, of course. And a raging headache that's only now starting to go away (all hail ibuprofen).

"Hey, Geralt?"

One didn't need to know either of them to sympathise with the painful sigh and eyeroll that came from the witcher as a response. He didn't bother looking at Jaskier, who was staring at a window display and, by the sound of it, grinning like a fool.

"Geralt, look! This one looks like you! Oh, come on, it's funny!"

Why, oh _why_ , was Jaskier like this...?

"Geeeeeralt! Hey. Hey. Hey, witcher, look!"

Holy Melitele, someone make him shut up!

Of course, Geralt couldn't say that. He bit his lip forcefully, turning his glare to the ground instead of to the bard. No matter the tentative truce they had come to after their fight only a couple of weeks ago, Geralt was aware that it was still too recent. If he shouted at Jaskier again...

"Your bard shouldn't be so careless," a small voice told him, out of nowhere, startling him. He looked around, suddenly alert, but he quickly located the little boy that was talking to him from a few meters away. "That's the house of madam Hilda, and he'll get turned into one of the dolls if he gets any closer."

Ah. Another local legend, huh... Geralt finally looked back at Jaskier, who had stopped following him in favor of looking at the, frankly kind of cute… in a very I’m-trying-to-be-spooky kind of cute way, display of dolls. Geralt tilted his head.

Saovine was coming closer and closer, he supposed. He'd thought it was still a few weeks away, but judging by the ambience in the little town they were crossing, it was going to be sooner than he'd imagined. Jaskier often complained about Saovine, especially when they were crossing towns that were more superstitious and didn’t like the traveling bards and their music. Something about bad luck when someone played instruments during the winter months… Said bard looked up briefly, and his face lit up when he noticed Geralt had stopped. He beamed at him, beckoning him closer. Geralt sighed again.

"Hold on," he mouthed at him, and then, turning to the child, "Do you know what I am?"

"Nay, sir. But I'm Evan, sir," the boy responded, all innocence and chubby cheeks. Geralt couldn't help but smile a little more warmly. Children were, occasionally, too young to know to be afraid of witchers. It happened less around Saovine, so he could count himself lucky. "Sir? Your bard, and the house..."

"What can you tell me about that house?" Geralt asked him, kneeling to his level. Evan looked at his eyes with surprise, and curiosity. A grubby hand darted forward, and Geralt let him touch his face for a moment, aware that he was probably leaving little smudges of dirt. He’d have to wipe them off later, before Jaskier could make fun of him. "Hey?" he prompted again when the kid - Evan, started to get a little too carried away. He didn’t want to get poked in the eye, after all.

"That is the house of madam Hilda," the kid repeated. "If someone goes in, they never come back. Lizzie tried it, and she hasn't been out! She even missed the recital we did, and she had the flute solo!"

"When was that?"

"A long time ago," Evan assured him. Geralt sighed. This kid was still too young to understand time well enough to give him anything useful...

"Alright. We won't..."

A gasp interrupted Geralt, as Evan lunged forward, a hand raised as if he wanted to stop something from happening. The next second, Geralt's medallion buzzed so quickly, it almost hurt his ears.

When he turned around, Jaskier was nowhere to be seen. Evan's face was white with fear now, and he ran back closer to Geralt, hugging his leg.

"Sir! Your bard, sir, he...!"

"What did he do?" Geralt asked him in a hushed voice.

His first instinct had been to run to where Jaskier had just been, and unsheathe his sword, but the wobbly voice of the kid had thankfully stopped him. It was bad enough with him talking to Evan, he didn’t want his parents to think he made the kid cry. He kneeled next to him again, patting his back and trying desperately to remember how he'd seen Jaskier calm down children before. His heart, slow as it normally beat, was quickly picking up pace. He was sure if Evan were to take his pulse, he wouldn't even notice that it was supposed to be slower than a human's.

"He touched the dolls, sir, he did!"

"Alright. Alright, hey... Hey, look at me," he ordered, clumsily. Evan did. "Do you know what I am?" he asked again. The kid shook his head. "I am a witcher. We kill bad things. I'm going to go look inside that house, alright Evan? I'm going to get Jaskier back."

"And Lizzie too?" Evan asked.

"I will do my best," he promised. The kid nodded, eyes wide.

"Are you a hero, sir witcher?" he asked. Geralt's chest hurt.

"I don't know... but my bard..." he trailed off. Evan kept saying ‘his bard’, but the words stuck in Geralt’s throat. What right did he have to call him that, after... But no, right now was not the right time to dwell on this. He shook himself. Evan was still looking at him. "He always said I was. He's important to me, so I'm going to get him back."

"Is he your husband?" Evan asked. Geralt smiled, despite himself.

"Hmmm, sometimes he’s definitely like an annoying, fussy spouse, if I had to say," he muttered. Evan didn't seem to hear him, thankfully. "No, Evan, he isn't. He's just my friend."

He _was_ a friend. He'd been, for over two decades now, even if it had taken Geralt just as long to be able to admit it.

He approached the display window. What he had mistaken for dolls were something more akin to... puppets. He sighed, picking up the one that had fallen to the floor. They were hanging there, looking by all intents and purposes like they were for sale. There was nothing there indicating their price, however, and nothing about the building seemed to say ‘shop’ to Geralt. Nothing happened at first, but as he turned the puppet around in his fingers, his blood froze in his veins.

This puppet was clearly, without a hint of doubt, Jaskier.

None of the puppets had clothes, but the body of this one was the same shade of green that Jaskier’s doublet had been. Comically wide blue eyes stared at him, a grin ever present in the puppet's face. Jaskier was generally a sunny and bright kind of person, but this grin, wider than normal, with teeth showing, and unnaturally frozen in his face... Geralt swore, a wave of eeriness starting to creep up on him. He couldn't leave the puppet behind as he investigated, but he couldn't really... take it with him... He avoided puppet-Jaskier's eyes as he tucked it into one of his bags.

Evan stared up at him as he did so, and followed him quietly when he pulled on Roach’s reins. Jaskier’s pack was still there, but his lute, which had been in his hands as it always was, had disappeared along with its owner.

Geralt did a quick inventory of his potions, and the coin he had. He could probably find the inn, leave Jaskier’s things in their room before going out…

Puppet-Jaskier grinned at him from the top of one of the packs as he put his potions back, and despite years and years of witcher training, Geralt couldn’t help the shiver running through him. The bard is always laughing, and while Geralt already knew it sometimes was just a mask the other man wore to hide when something was bothering him, seeing it like this, staring at him like a happy little doll that Geralt could do as he pleased with, or leave behind if it suited him...

Well.

Fuck.

He had to break this spell, and he had to do it _soon_ … Jaskier might have forgiven him, but Geralt still had much to atone for.

**Author's Note:**

> A note on the last line - While I don't necessarily think that Geralt "has a lot to atone for", as in, I'm sure they could just talk it through like actual adults after that mountain fight, I'm fairly sure that Geralt would have a lot of internal guilt about it, and the oneshot is written from his POV, so... there ya go.
> 
> Also, I don't have immediate plans to continue this story but if it inspired you and you want to write your own continuation to it, by all means! As always, check my blanket permission statement on my profile, but tl;dr: yes and please let me know so I can read it!
> 
> Other than that - thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my story :D
> 
> If you did, please consider leaving kudos or a comment, they're greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you’d like to create related content based on my fic, please visit my profile for my blanket permission statement!
> 
> If you want to yell with me and share more headcanons for these dorks, you can find me at my tumblr, [kyokotsukuyomi](http://kyokotsukuyomi.tumblr.com/), the comments section down below, or any of the links in my profile. Don't be shy!
> 
> Love,
> 
> ~Lena


End file.
